At the Midnight Hour
by Historica
Summary: A short Numair/Daine drabble following the end of RotG to let us see how their relationship might have unfolded; pure fluff, for fun alone. My first story, so reviews are welcome.


Numair Salmalin crept into his rooms, taking care not to make too much noise. It had been many years since he had needed to take such caution entering his own chambers; one of the benefits of living alone. But as he glanced over at the sleeping girl in his bed, illuminated by the moonlight shining through the open window, he reflected that it was a comfort he was all-too happy to forego in the circumstances.

Veralidaine Sarrasri's tangle of curls had spread across the pillows, refusing, as they always did, to be tamed into submission. Long dark lashes laid against soft cheeks and one hand clutched his pillow to her chest. Numair smiled. Yes, it was well worth some tip-toeing in the dark to know that he would be able to climb into that bed and hold that beautiful, soft, warm creature against him.

He heard Kitten - more properly known as Skysong, the young dragonnet - shuffling in the room next to him. It had been a compromise; Numair was happy to share his bed with Daine, but her array of companions had to find elsewhere in their rooms to sleep.

Their rooms. He marveled at how their relationship had grown, developed, deepened in the months since the war had ended. He had been almost overwhelmed by the depth of his own feelings for Daine when he first expressed his love for her in the Divine Realms, overcome with relief that she had survived the spidren attack. He had certainly been afraid of those feelings, of what they meant, and had even tried to push her away. But she would not be pushed away, and he was glad for it.

They had slowly revealed the truth of their relationship to their friends with the end of the Immortals War. In the sadness that always followed conflict and loss, those closest to them seemed happy to have any joy on which they could focus. And the palace always loved a new source of gossip. The famed black robe mage seducing his young student certainly offered plenty of fodder for that.

In truth, although Daine had moved into his rooms, they had done little to be worthy of gossip. It had seemed prudent to move slowly, to give them both time to grow into this new place in their lives. He was older, after all. He was far more experienced than she was. He had taken other women to his bedchamber, swept them off their feet with pretty words and lust that lasted for the moment and evaporated with the sun's first morning. He wanted so much more for Daine.

And over these past few months, so much more had blossomed. The thought of falling asleep holding her warm body cradled against him, the flower-sweet scent of her hair tickling his nose made him smile through the whole day. The sound of her voice as she chattered happily with Kitten, or the palace cats, or the birds was like a calming chime in the background as he sat and studied. They readied themselves in the mornings as if they were in a carefully choreographed dance, never in the other's way and never delayed. And late in the evening they sat and quietly talked, or read, or held each other, and Numair wished for the night to never end.

He could not imagine his life without her. And as she now wore the beautiful sapphire ring he had picked out on her hand and had allowed Alanna and Queen Thayet to begin making plans for a spring wedding, he had finally begun to believe he would never have to.

Numair smiled to himself as he lifted the bedcovers and slipped in, trying to tease his pillow out of Daine's grasp. She stirred as she relinquished her captive, wrapping her arms around his chest instead and rubbing her nose against the "V" of chest hair that showed through his nightshirt.

"That was a very long meeting," she murmured.

"Still trying to sort out the repercussions for the Copper Isles and Scanra," he answered. "We meet with the ambassadors again in the morning." His hand lazily stroked along Daine's back, feeling her cotton nightdress slide against her skin.

"Carthak?" she mumbled, her breath warm against his skin.

"Emperor Kaddar has asked to take responsibility for punishing the rebels," he said. "I think we can trust him to act appropriately."

Daine shifted to look up at him, a mischievous glint in her eye. "You didn't always trust him to _act appropriately_," she said with a grin.

Numair felt a slight flush rise to is cheeks as he remembered the less-than subtle conversation he'd once held with the then-prince. "Well," he began carefully, "in some matters, it is well-advised to act with an abundance of caution to avoid... misunderstandings."

"In some matters," Daine repeated drily.

"Only the ones of utmost importance," he said with a smile.

Numair leaned down, gently brushing his lips against hers. Daine responded happily, wrapping her arms around him and pulling him close.

He deepened the kiss, enjoying the feeling of her body pressed against his, her lips moving against his. One large hand slid along her side and his fingertips brushed her bare thigh where her nightshirt had ridden up. He teased along the edge of the garment, enjoying the silky feel of her skin against his fingers while he buried his other hand in her hair. He could feel Daine's hands caressing his back, his shoulders, his arms. Her warm hands sparked against his skin making him acutely aware of how little separated their bodies.

Daine suddenly shifted, and his hand slipped under the hem of her garment, caressing her bare thigh. She whimpered and pushed her body into his, drawing an answering groan from his throat as his body longed to respond. Swiftly Numair tamped down on the urge, pulling away.

"Don't," Daine pleaded, her hands on his face, trying to draw him back down.

"Daine," Numair said, his voice hoarse. "I... We..." He took a deep, shuddering breath, trying to hold on to his composure. "I don't want you to do something you'll regret," he finally said, cupping her cheek with his large hand, his fingers entwining in her curls.

"Please, Numair," she whispered, and the need in her eyes was his undoing.

"Mynoss, Mithros, and Shakith," he groaned as he pulled her into his arms again, seizing her mouth in a desperate kiss, his body singing out in happiness while he prayed he wasn't making a mistake.

Daine blinked slowly in the dim light of the early morning. She had not yet gotten used to the south-facing window, which softened the glow of the rising sun. Her room - her old room, she reminded herself - had been filled with the sun's glow from it's eastern window each day.

As the morning pulled her from sleep's grasp, Daine became more aware of her situation. She was, of course, in Numair's room. In Numair's bed. She had woken up in Numair's bed nearly every morning since the Immortals War had ended. And she quite liked waking up wrapped in the warm embrace of the tall, dark, lanky mage, with his distinctive scent of sandalwood and spice and man filling her nose.

But today was different. Because today she was completely wrapped in his embrace. The layers of cotton that had been a thin but unmistakable barrier in the past were gone. She could feel his body pressing against her body, the warmth of his skin on her skin. His arm wrapped around her bare back and his hand laid possessively against her hip, pulling her against him. She could feel the slight tickle of his chest hair against her breast and the tangle of their legs.

She smiled at the memory of the night before. She remembered Numair's gentleness, the reassurances whispered against her skin, his hands brushing her hair back, his mouth on hers. Daine, Sarra's bastard child, the girl no man would want, discarded by so many - in his arms she had felt whole and complete and cherished.

She turned her face, rubbing her nose in his chest hair in a familiar gesture.

"That tickles," came the grumbling response.

Daine raised her head to smile into the familiar dark face, a sleepy frown creasing his features. "I know," she quipped. "That's why I did it."

Numair's face softened and he leaned to brush a gentle kiss against Daine's lips. "Good morning, magelet," he said softly. His hand cradled her cheek. "How are you feeling?"

She returned the kiss. "I feel wonderful, Numair. Stop being a worry wart," she chided.

He flushed for a moment and then grinned. "Well, in that case," he quipped, and with a quick turn he laid her against the bed, his body over hers, and captured her mouth in a playful but passionate kiss.

The kiss had just turned toward serious when the door swung open and Kitten marched in, voicing a loud array of trills and whistles. She seemed to have no regard for the compromising position in which she had just found her two caregivers as she climbed onto the foot of the bed and began an animated conversation.

"We will need to start locking that door," Numair grumbled as Daine wiggled out from under him.

"Do you think that will stop her?" Daine laughed as she pulled the bedclothes around herself and tried to sit up, ready to reach out to Kitten.

Numair snaked one long arm and pulled Daine back against him, pressing a short but ardent kiss against her mouth. "Not really," he admitted. "But I'd be okay if it just slowed her down."


End file.
